


Adventures in Hermiton

by SkyWillSometimesWrite



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: DND-esque story, Gen, Reader Interaction, Second Person, all the hermits make an appearance but these are the most relevant to story, choose your own story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyWillSometimesWrite/pseuds/SkyWillSometimesWrite
Summary: You are an adventurer, ready to leave behind your boring life. When a mysterious man offers you a way out of your predicament you take it. In a country you've never heard of, you quickly learn that Eremita is a definite change from your old life. Many questions lay ahead that you will need to answer, and who knows just where your story leads.-----Adventures in Hermiton is a reader lead fanfiction based off of many elements of DND. Every chapter will have a survey that will affect the course of the story. The story only continues if the readers participate.You can learn more and participate over at https://adventuresinhermiton.tumblr.com/
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Welcome to Adventures in Hermiton

**Author's Note:**

> This was the welcome synopsis given last week. This also held the first survey which involved the character creation.
> 
> This first chapter would have been the summary except AO3 has a character limit....

Eremita is a small country surrounded by water that harbors the kingdom of Hermiton. While isolated, the kingdom is known across the world as a diverse and welcoming land that has been blessed by endless light. Both magic and science run rampant in this country, bringing a balance to industry as well as arcana and making life prosperous for its residents. Even so, the brightest of lights can cast the darkest shadows.

You are a traveller, arriving via ship into one of the many harbors of Hermiton. You are looking for something, but what that is remains to be determined as you set off on an adventure to a place you’ve only heard of through stories. Crossing the threshold from legend to reality is a mighty standard, and you’ll soon come to realize that not everything is as harmonious as you assumed it to be.

Join us and your fellow adventurers as you embark on this journey together, meeting new, but familiar, people and solving unique, but recognizable, problems. Will you master your magic and become a great sorcerer? Perhaps you’ll hone your skills with a sword and defend the king? Maybe you’re just looking for something to spice up your mundane life? Ultimately, it’s your story to tell. 

And it all starts here, by telling us who you wish to be. Life is full of uncertainties, though, and won’t always go your way. But if you put in the time, you might be pleasantly surprised by the outcome.

_Adventures in Hermiton is an interactive, reader-led fanfiction written in the style of a classic DND campaign using the hermit’s characters as the NPCs. At the end of every chapter there will be a choice to make that will directly affect how the story pans out. The story doesn’t progress unless people participate._

_This is the first set of choices: the creation of the main character. While the main character will be ambiguously written so anyone may insert themselves into the role, the decisions made here will help streamline the narrative and writing process._


	2. Fated Encounters

The tavern is quiet, the patrons at this hour sit few and far apart, silently sipping the stale booze from their mugs. No one tries to talk to you as you clean the counter, and you’re grateful since you don’t think you’d have the energy to chat if you wanted to. Not that you ever really want to chat with the drunk patrons, but more often than not they won’t stop until you acknowledge their existence. 

You hate it here. It’s boring, it’s awful, it smells, and you don’t get paid nearly enough to put up practically running the place until closing. Even the few coins that you charge extra from some of the newer patrons or the ones you scrape off the top of the night’s final profit aren’t enough to justify working here. And yet here you are. 

As horrible as this place is you know it’s the best shot you have at getting out of the run-down hole in the ground that is your hometown. You love your family, sure, but you’re ready to leave the nest and forge your own destiny. Everyone tells you that people like you don’t get some grand destiny, but you know they’re wrong. They have to be. You were given magic for a better reason than to clean messy drunk’s wine-stained tunics, right? You sure hope so.

You yawn, resting your head on your hand for a moment and glance at the broken clock. It’s past midnight, closing in on 2 A.M. which means it won’t be long before you can go home and sleep. And then repeat this day all over again. With a heavy sigh you prepare yourself to kick out the stubborn night owls that have no sense of how late it is, when you hear the door open; the wood door scraping against the wood floor sounds like shattering glass in the near silent bar.

You look over, seeing a robed man with a hood covering his head sit down at the nearest bar stool to the door. You hesitate, not recognizing him, before making your way over.

“Just a mead, please.” He tells you before you can ask. His voice is light and has an underlying accent you haven’t heard around these parts that gives this odd twang to his words. “I promise I’ll be quick. I know you’re closing soon.”

You don’t question how he knows that. There aren’t any signs posted of the tavern’s operating hours, but maybe he could guess by how empty it is. Either way, you’re reassured you won’t have to kick him out in the next twenty minutes and grab one of the freshly cleaned mugs. Soon, you’re sliding him a cup of flat, lukewarm mead.

He nods in gratitude, taking a swig. You go back to cleaning, still set on keeping your normal schedule. Random strangers come in all the time, and while you enjoy hearing their adventurous stories, tonight your brain is too tired to care to listen to someone’s more fortunate life.

You can feel his eyes on your back as you work, and you resign to seeing if he needs a refill or something. When you get over to him, though, you see his cup barely looks touched even though his first sip seemed pretty hefty. You open your mouth to ask what he needs when he talks first.

“Why are you here?”

The question catches you off guard and you blink at him a few times before narrowing your eyes. That isn’t some normal question you ask a bartender, rather it’s usually the bartender asking the customer that. You know you have never been asked such a question before.

“You don’t seem enthralled by your work.” He continues, and you shrug at the clock. “Yeah, it’s late. And? What’s the point in you being here? You’re clearly yearning for something more, I don’t know, exciting?”

You once again narrow your eyes at this strange man who acts as if he has you entirely figured out. His hood casts shadows over his face, aided by the dim and fading light of the torches in the tavern. The only two physical features you can make out about him is that he has a beard and that he wears glasses that reflect the tiniest of light.

Who is he? Why is he here? You thought you didn’t want to know anything about him, and yet now you can’t help but be intrigued.

“Maybe one day.” He tells you, taking another sip from his cup despite you never uttering a word. “I want to know about you. Why are you still here if you aren’t happy?”

Your eyes downcast. You know why, it’s because of the people. They aren’t the nicest or most supportive people, but you still care about them. Besides, even if you wanted to leave, where would you go? You dream of leaving, and have been saving up to leave, but you know deep down that even if you ever do save enough to leave that you would return soon enough. Or even worse, end up in the same situation someplace new.

He slams his hand down on the counter, startling you out of your own thoughts as you look up at him. He retreats his hand and you look down to see a flimsy piece of what looks like brown paper with gold lettering. You cast him a glance and he nods at you to take it. Slowly sliding it off the edge of the counter you examine it carefully.

_Eremita Shipping  
Captain Jevin  
One way_

You look back up at him to see him standing, the door open and a few gold coins on the counter next to his now empty mug.

“If you go to the ports at dawn you might see a way out of the bottomless pit you’ve found yourself in.” He tells you, turning away and into the dark of the night. “It’s up to you if you decide to grab hold of the rope and start climbing.”

With that, he leaves and the clock chimes on the hour, telling you and the lingering patrons that it’s closing time. You’re entranced, blinking a couple of times as you try to figure out whether or not that just happened. You feel the thin but strong parchment in your hand and you know it did. You read the words on it again, trying to remember where you recognize the name Eremita from. 

You don’t dwell on it too much right now, turning your attention to the groaning guests. You can think about this in a little bit, right now you have a tavern to close.

* * *

You didn’t sleep at all last night. You tried to, but once you lied down in your bed your brain would not quiet down enough for you to close your eyes. Instead you spent a few hours staring at the ticket that the stranger had given you, his words repeating in your mind.

 _Eremita_. That name seems so familiar to you, and yet you cannot figure out why. It feels like a long forgotten memory from your childhood, some unreachable dream that now presents itself as a reality. Was that man a fairy? you wonder. Is he trying to lure you into something you will never return from? You remember those stories from your childhood quite clearly, the warnings about going too deep into the neighboring woods. Back then you always boasted that your magic would protect you, but as you got older and heard about the town’s children disappearing you decided it wasn’t worth the risk. After all, if you wanted to have an adventure you couldn’t fall prey to some fairy.

So were you really considering that man’s words? Were you actually considering heading to the port at dawn? The retired sailor that ran the ports near your town had popped into the tavern only a fews days ago and he didn’t have anything special to tell you about. You had heard about some of the larger kingdoms’ soldiers arriving on prison ships, or sea-worn travellers like you longed to be one day. You had heard him ramble on about this country or that, but never once have you ever heard him utter the name Eremita.

It had to be a trap, or a trick, or a lie, or _something_. Or maybe Eremita was a far-off country that took prisoners to work in mines or lumber yards, never to be seen again. The ticket said one way, after all. If you left, the chances of you coming back were slim.

As you toss and turn in your bed, you eventually decide to get up; maybe a walk will silence your overworked mind. You open the door to the outside world, shivering at the slight bite in the air, and don’t even realize that you stuffed the ticket into your pocket.

For once, as you walk, your mind is silent. Not focused on the strange man or his strange words or the strange experience you had a few hours ago. You aren’t focused enough however, to pay attention to your surroundings, as you barely register the thud of footsteps behind you. A hand on your shoulder forces you to spin around, and as you catch yourself you see three masked figures in front of you, two of which begin to close in on either side.

“Hey there pal, it’s sure late out. I get it’s dark and all, but do you even know where you are?” The one in front of you asks as he cracks his neck. “We’ll make this quick and simple for you, alright? Just give us your money and we’ll even be so nice as to escort you out of our territory.”

You narrow your eyes at him in clear defiance, and one of his friends puts a hand on your shoulder. Even if you had thought to bring your coin bag with you, you would never hand over any of your savings to bandits like them. You grab the bandit touching your arm, pivoting your foot and using all your strength to flip their small frame over. It works, but not without dragging you along with them. You hear their leader curse as you scramble to get up and decide not to wait around, bolting in a random direction. Your footsteps are light and you are easily able to hop over obstacles in your way but you can hear the bandits yelling after you and your mind is racing trying to come up with a way out of this scenario.

You make a sharp turn out of an alleyway and before you know it you have to turn again to prevent yourself from falling into the ocean. Your feet are falling against wood as you run across the docks of your home town, the ones that you know haven’t been taken care of, and your foot catches a loose plank just barely jutting up into the air. You tumble down, gaining a few bruises that are about to get a whole lot worse as the three bandits tower over you.

“You just had to make this difficult, huh?”

You stare them down, refusing to show fear despite knowing that your facade will fall within minutes. One of them makes a move to punch you. You brace yourself.

And feel something cold land on your nose. 

You see a blurry droplet of something blue, but you’re more focused on the clearer image of a sword in front of you, its broadside blocking the punch from making contact with you. You look up, noticing a blue hand around the hilt.

“Three against one isn’t exactly the fairest of fights.” A new voice chimes in from behind you.

“What the hell are you?” One of the bandits asks.

“Y’know I don’t really wanna tell you. I’m gonna knock you out anyways, so you wouldn’t even remember if I did.” The person holding the sword flicks his wrist up, causing the bandit’s arm to recoil backwards. The person walks around and in front of you. 

He’s blue. That’s the main thing you notice. And then you notice that he seems to be rather… _gooey_ as well. You bring up a finger to wipe off your nose and look at the substance that landed on it, realizing that it must be a part of him. He’s wearing a white tunic and some dark pants, neither of which are clinging to him like you’d expect it to.

The bandits throw some insults at the person, and make a few attempts at hitting him. Two of the punches he deflects with his sword in a similar fashion to the first time. The third punch lands. Or sinks, rather. The tallest of the bandits has their fist stuck in the blue person’s head.

“Ew, gross. Do you mind?” His hand comes up and wraps around their arm, pulling their arm out of his head and shoving them backwards. His head shifts a bit, the gelatinous substance it’s made of rippling. “Okay, I’m over this. Leave.”

The leader shouts something incoherent at him and pulls out a dagger, while the other bandit not on the ground pulls out some small throwing knives. The leader rushes him, swiping and stabbing at the blue person who just effortlessly blocks and deflects the attacks. The other bandit takes the distraction to throw the knives, the blades sinking into the goo that made up his body. 

The bandits make a sound of triumph but the blue person isn’t impressed. “Thanks for the ammunition.” He mutters as the knives rearrange inside of his body and flow to his non-sword arm. He draws that arm back and then flings it forward, the knives flying out and spraying gooey bits everywhere. A few of the knives fly harmlessly past them but two of them hit the bandit that threw them, impaling their arm and causing them to cry out. One of the knives embeds itself into the leader as well, painfully sticking out of his shoulder.

“Dammit, okay, fine. We’ll leave. But we’ll be back.” The leader mutters, backing away with his bandits.

“Well I won’t be here, so I don’t care.” The blue person says, turning away after making sure the bandits were gone. He looks down at you, before offering you his free hand. 

You look at it for a long moment before taking it, surprised that your hand doesn’t sink into his. You also can’t help but mentally recoil at the slimy feeling. When you’re on your feet you thank him.

“No problem. It’s my job to make sure my passengers make it to their destinations safely.” You tilt your head in confusion. His passengers? You weren’t one of his passengers… that you knew of, at least. He gestures behind you. “You dropped your ticket.”

You look behind you, seeing the reflective gold print of the ticket that man gave you at the bar. You had almost managed to forget about it. You pick it up, reading it over again.

_Eremita Shipping  
Captain Jevin  
One way_

So was this guy Captain Jevin? You looked over at him for confirmation and he nodded, walking past you and onto a boat you didn’t even realize was there. It wasn’t too big, but looked like it was made of a sturdy wood. “We don’t leave until dawn, but you’re free to hang out until then.”

You blink. This man, Jevin, just saved you and now he’s acting so casual. It’s jarring. You look down at your ticket again.

Are you actually going to do this? Are you actually _considering_ this? Didn’t you just make dozens of arguments as to why you should rip up this ticket and forget that strange man? 

But you’ve never seen someone like Jevin before. Sure, your town was a little diverse, but you had a feeling this Eremita place made your town look extra boring. It was new. It was exciting. And you just saw what he was capable of. Could you learn to do that in Eremita? Clearly not the goo thing, but maybe how to use a sword? How to fight? Could someone teach you how to properly use your magic?

“Thinkin’ hard.” 

Jevin’s voice drags you out of your thoughts and you look up at him, a waiting expression. You grip the ticket firmly in your hand, taking a step towards the boat only to freeze.

You have nothing with you.

No money, no clothes, nothing. Without another word you spin on your heels and run back up the dock and towards your house. You hear Jevin shout something behind you but as you glance at the horizon you’re starting to see glimpses of purple transitioning into pink and you know if you don’t hurry you’ll miss your chance. 

You stuff some items into a sack that you can throw over your shoulder: a few changes of clothes, a hunting knife your dad gave you, and your life savings. You didn’t tell the tavern owner you were leaving, or any of the patrons, or your parents. Maybe they’ll think that the fairies took you. Maybe they’ll be right.

You jump onto the ship, noticing how Jevin perks up from his spot on the docks untying the boat from a post. He smiles at you and finishes up, walking up to you and holding out a blue hand. “Ticket please.”

You hesitate, asking yourself one last time if you’re really doing this.

You stop hesitating and slap the ticket into his hand, causing a splash of blue.

“Awesome. We’re leaving soon. Help me with the sail.”

The ride is surprisingly smooth, despite how choppy the waters on the horizon look. You’re watching your hometown fade into the distance when the reality of what you’ve done begins to sink in. Looking around the top deck, you realize suddenly that you’re the only one on board aside from Jevin. Panic starts to envelop you and you grip the wooden railing, certain you are going to have splinters as soon as you let go.

“You should go get some sleep.” Jevin calls from behind the wheel. He isn’t looking at you, instead over the horizon ahead of you. “You look like you’re about to jump overboard and me and water don’t exactly get along the best.”

You’re about to ask him why he is a boat captain when a yawn escapes you. You glance at the sun resting above the horizon, squinting past the golden rays as you try and figure out how long you’ve gone now without sleep.

You look around the deck again, noticing nothing else on the barren wood other than a few barrels. You walk towards the part of the ship that leads to the lower decks and sit down, leaning against a wall. The angle blocks the sun and you’re able to lean against the rising stairwell. You’re still anxious, but logic starts seeping through. It’s too late now to turn back, may as well get some rest and be ready for anything.

* * *

“Hey, we’re here.” You jump at Jevin’s voice, frantically looking around as you try and take in your surroundings. Right. You’re on a boat. “Sorry, but you have to get off. I have other trips to make.”

You nod, stretching as you stand and grab your sack. You take note of where the sun is, noticing it’s past noon. That was a lot faster than you thought it would be. Granted, you didn’t know where this place was on a map. You wave to Jevin as you step off the ship and you watch as he floats off.

The port he dropped you off on looks decrepit and rarely used. Planks are missing on the dock and you have to tread carefully before you can hop safely onto the white sand of the beach. Ahead of you is a thick jungle, trees towering over you and you can’t see past them. There’s a worn dirt trail visible, though, and you start towards it. 

Your doubts and fears start creeping up again as you navigate the complicated jungle path, pulling down vines and walking over decaying tree trunks. It doesn’t look like anyone has been through here in awhile, considering how overgrown it is. 

You hear a whisper from behind you and whip around, frantically looking around. You hear it again, feeling something against your neck, and you spin around again. You dig in your pack for the small hunting knife your dad gave to you years ago and unsheath it, holding it shakily in front of you as you scan the area. 

Something ruffles the bushes to your right and you turn towards it, taking a deep breath and walking towards it. Bracing yourself you use one hand to push some of the bush aside to reveal… nothing. You look closer, only to be startled once again from a sound behind you. You stand straight, taking a step back as you spin and your foot hits something solid in the pathway and you tumble into the dirt.

You’re fine physically, just a bit dirty with the wet dirt deciding to cling to your hands and clothes. You look at what you tripped over, noticing a small red crystal bursting out of the ground. It’s edges are jagged but the top looks flat and you notice the pointed tip sitting on the ground next to the crystal.

You’re trying to figure out how exactly it got there or why you didn’t notice it before when a large, cat-like creature jumps out of the bushes. You blink at it and it blinks back before sniffing at the broken crystal tip, nudging it with its nose. It’s mainly white, a gray, striped patch covering most of its back. You would have assumed it was some off-bread mountain lion if not for the fact that you realized it had two legs too many, and two extra tails sprouting from its back. How it managed to sneak up on you is a mystery you wonder if you’ll live to solve, or if it’s about to maul you before you can.

You watch it as it gently picks the crystal up in its mouth, beginning to trot off into the woods and off the path. It pauses and looks back at you. You stare at it. One of its tails twitches towards you and then forward. You slowly stand up, picking up your bag and take a few steps towards it. It begins walking forward again, pausing to look back at you again. 

You narrow your eyes in suspicion but follow the cat-like creature into the thick of the jungle, your knife out the entire time just in case. It trots easily through the thickets and brambles while you scramble over big bushes and maneuver around tall trees. Before long it leads you into a clearing and you stop behind it as it walks up to a tall man wearing a brightly colored purple robe, matching pointed hat, and holding onto a tall staff. He looks at the creature as it rubs against his side and he mutters something to it, his voice clearly pleased.

“Oh, what’s this?” He asks a little louder as he pet the creature, having it drop the crystal into his hand. He looks at it carefully. “This is exactly what I was looking for! Thank ya, Jellie!” He gives it, Jellie, another pet.

Jellie chirps and walks over to you, rubbing at your side now. The man looks at you now and you get a better look at him in return now that he is facing you. You see now that he is a tabaxi, a cat-like creature, with brown fur fuzzed up underneath his clothes and two ears poking out on either side of the brim. Underneath the gold-trimmed robe is a plain grey shirt and brightly colored shorts with a pattern; he’s also wearing soft looking shoes that don’t look like they were made to withstand the jungle he’s in. His staff has bits of color in it and they reflect the few light beams that shine past the leaves.

“Well hi there! Looks like Jellie made a new friend.” He beams at you, walking over. “I hope she didn’t cause you too much trouble, she doesn’t know when to keep her paws to herself.”

You look down at the creature that you’re still not convinced is a cat and see her staring up at you, her green eyes dull in comparison to her maybe-owner. She meows at you and the man gasps.

“Really?” He asks and when Jellie _mrrps_ in response he is smiling even brighter at you. “So you pulled the crystal out of the ground? That’s rather impressive, especially since this is such a powerful one too.” He tells you, holding up the crystal to a light beam and looking at it through one eye. 

You don’t know what he is talking about. You didn’t do anything, you don’t think. You figured that crystal had always been there. 

“If you pulled the crystal from the ground like Jellie says then that must mean you have some powerful magic!” You shrug and Jellie meows once again. He gasps. “You just arrived from that port? I didn’t think we still used that one…” He mutters that last part to himself and your worries return to you tenfold. “Are you back from a trip? Or are you new to Eremita?”

You confirm that you have arrived here for the first time and you’re relieved that you are, in fact, in Eremita. Wherever or whatever Eremita is. So far your experience with it has been gooey ship captains, broken docks, random crystals, and even randomer cat-like creatures. Maybe you were still asleep.

“Well then, allow me to be your guide!” He stands taller. “There is no one who knows this part of the jungle better than good ol’ Mr. Goodtimes here.” He spins on his heels and gestures for you to follow him with his staff.

You follow Mr. Goodtimes down another dirt path. Jellie walks beside him, and every now and again will walk beside you. “So, what brings you to Eremita? Wait, don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re here for the magic, aren’t you? That is our specialty, afterall. Well, I can promise you someone of your magical prowess will fit in just fine here.” He looks over his shoulder at you. “How long have you been studying magic, anyways?”

You sink into your shirt collar, avoiding his eyes. Sure, you have magic, but you can’t say you ever studied it. The most you’ve ever managed to do with your magic was conjure a ball of light for a few seconds. It seems lame now, but you were really proud of it back then. You can’t help but feel like you’ll disappoint him with the truth that you’re not as powerful as he thinks you are. His eyes are still on you, waiting for an answer, though and you simply shrug as a response.

“You don’t know? Wait,” He stops and turns to you, narrowing his eyes and really looking you over. “Jellie wouldn’t just bring any stranger to me, and no stranger could pull a crystal like that from the ground. And if what you’re saying is true then…” He gasps, his eyes practically sparkling as he seems to connect some sort of dots in his head. “You should be my apprentice!”

You’re taken aback, staring at him in bewilderment. Whether he notices your confusion or not is up in the air as he nods to himself. “Imagine it. My name is already known across all of Eremita, so it wouldn’t be too surprising for my loyal followers to hear that Mr. Goodtimes the great wizard has taken on a powerful apprentice!”

He was a wizard? Is that what was up with his getup? You thought wizards only wore stuff like that in fairy tales… Although, the longer you’re in Eremita the more you’re convinced that is a place straight out of a fantasy book your mother would read to you as a kid. Mr. Goodtimes seems excited about the fantasy he has concocted and he looks back up at you, his voice suddenly turning sheepish.

“That is, if you want to.”

You can’t help but smile at his change in demeanor. You’ve never been someone’s apprentice before, and you _did_ want to learn how to use your magic. Maybe this would be good for you. And it looks like it would be great for Mr. Goodtimes. You nod at him and he perks right back up. 

“Oh, this is gonna be amazin’!” He’s quickly turning back on his heels and marching through the jungle again, leaving you and Jellie to follow behind him.

You stop at a stone wall, bricks clumsily stacked on top of each other that towered up to barricade something off from the rest of the jungle. Mr. Goodtimes feels along the bricks, making a small “aha” noise as he pushes against one and a section of the wall opens. He gestures for you to go ahead and you do, staring up in awe at this new world that you just stepped into.

The first thing you notice is the giant blue crystal in the middle and how it towers above you, catching the sunlight and reflecting it brilliantly. Then you notice the buildings, they’re overgrown but you feel as if that means they’re in perfect working order. Nature is at work everywhere in this little village that you stand in awe in, but it looks tamed and naturally groomed in a way the jungle you had just traversed didn’t. 

Creatures walk down the small pathways, from little farms into buildings, carrying crates of goods. No two of them are the same. You see tiny fairies making the crops grow with a sprinkling of magic dust, a small feathered creature chipping at a block of stone, and a red, scaly humanoid flipping through a book on a roof. Mr. Goodtimes steps in place beside you, looking over the hidden village with a smile.

“Welcome to the village of magical misfit creatures, my apprentice.” He takes a step forward and turns towards you. “A place where any creature who wishes to indulge in their more mystical side may do so in peace.”

He gently taps the side of the blue crystal with his staff, causing both items to glow softly for a moment. Satisfied, he taps his chin in thought as he looks you over. “Alright, first things first: you need a staff.” You do? You look at him in confusion, and he shakes his head at you, tutting. “Every good magician needs a staff. It’s practically essential! How else are you gonna cast all your cool magic spells?”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never used a staff or a wand or _anything_ really to cast your magic. But he’s already walking away before you can protest and into one of the smaller buildings in the village and you sigh as you follow. It’s dimmer than it was outside with no windows to let in any natural light. There was the distinct smell of freshly cut wood in the air, and the dust on the ground added to it. Sticks and staffs and wands of different colors and woods and designs lined the walls. 

Working at a table in the middle of the room was another tabaxi,. Her yellow fur was speckled with black and orange spots and she looked up when you and Mr. Goodtimes entered. Jellie pushes her way in, weaving around anything in her path and getting between the craftsman and her work, rubbing her head against her hands until she stopped carving and started to pet her instead.

“Hi there Virgam!” Mr. Goodtimes called out, waving as he set his staff against the wall near the door.

She smiled at him and nodded. “Hello, Scar. Did you break your staff again?”

“As a matter of fact, no. I did not.” He seemed rather proud of this fact and Virgam laughed quietly.

“Then what brings you here?”

“I need a special brand-spankin’-new staff for my apprentice.” Mr. Goodtimes (first name Scar?) grabs your arm and pulls you forward to show you off to Virgam. 

Virgam looks you over, eyes narrowed and ears flicking every few seconds. “An apprentice, huh? Alright then, I’m sure I have something around here they can use.” She walks over to some of the staff on the wall, picking one up and examining it. “Tell me, apprentice, what kind of magic are you looking to study under Scar?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Participate in the writing of the next chapter by answering this small survey!  
> https://forms.gle/DjNngrmPXUWUHqio6


	3. Unimpressive Apprentice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha... I remember when I said this was going to be regularly updated.   
> Don't listen to me with that stuff

“Tell me, apprentice, what kind of magic are you looking to study under Scar?”

Before you even get the chance to respond, Mr. Goodtimes speaks up in response to Virgam’s question. “Well, I’m going to teach them everything I know, of course! I can’t have my apprentice simply focusing on  _ one _ track. They have too much magic in them to simply keep all of that bottled up.”

Virgam looked unimpressed, rolling her eyes at your enthusiastic teacher. “Scar, you only know one track yourself.”

“I- Well, that might be true, but I have plenty of tomes that I study every day.”

“I’m sure you do.” She picks up a glass set on a side table, a dark liquid barely visible over the rim as she takes a sip. “But wouldn’t it be easier for you to start your apprentice off on something they already know? Work from there?”

You looked over at Mr. Goodtimes, whose eyes were narrowed in thought as he processed this line of logic. You were starting to get the feeling that your self-appointed mentor may have embellished his title a little bit. He seems to come to a decision though as he nods, his ears perking up. 

“You have a point, Virgam. Yes, apprentice!” He turns to you and you stand straighter. “Now then, what do you know how to do?”

You think about what it is you know how to do with your magic. Sure, you’ve tried to do plenty of simply, small tricks. Lighting candles without a source or creating little illusions to watch when you couldn’t sleep. You glance over at Virgam, her hand gently swirling the glass as she inspects your every move. Right, you used to work in a bar and there is one thing you managed to become an expert at.

You walk up to her, taking the glass from her hand with nothing but a confused look from Virgam. You then walk over to Mr. Goodtimes, grabbing the bottom of his robe and pouring the dark drink onto the pristine purple fabric, instantly creating a dark spot that quickly begins spreading.

“Apprentice!” He cried, his ears flattened on his head as he gave you a betrayed look. Virgam’s laughter echoed off the walls. “Why did you do that?”

You hold up a hand, telling him to wait. You look down at the stain, moving your hand to hover over it. Light envelops the stain for a few seconds before it fades, leaving the purple in the same state it had been a few seconds ago. You gesture to it with a flourish.

Mr. Goodtimes’ look of betrayal quickly shifted into a blank expression. “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” He giggled, running his thumb over the clean spot and rubbing the back of his neck. “Is, uh, that all you know how to do?”

You drop the robe, shoulders slumping. You raise your hands, palms up, and conjure up a small illusion of a sheep that runs around across your hands. You look back up at Mr. Goodtimes, his expression clearly telling you that he had expected something a little more.

“Do you… know anything else?” 

You drop your hands and the illusion, thinking if your other small tricks are worth showing. You ultimately decide they aren’t and shrug, shaking your head. 

“Alright, so you know basic spells, that’s good, I guess. Plenty of room for improvement though!” He squints at you, like he had before when he was deep in thought. “Alright,” he says, “how about we focus on more chore-based spells to begin with?”

“You’re supposed to make them your apprentice, Scar, not your maid.”

Mr. Goodtimes sputtered in offense. “Excuse me, I will not make them my maid! I just think it’ll be easier for them to learn some simple utility spells before we move into, say, shooting giant fireballs or raising the dead.”

“Because you can do that?”

“That’s not important.” Mr. Goodtimes grabs you by the shoulders, beginning to push you out of the shop. “So, how soon can you get a staff made, Virgam?”

You are able to spot Virgam rolling her eyes before Jellie rubs against your legs and past you out the door, causing you to almost trip over your feet. “I’ll have one made in a few hours, don’t you worry. Just be careful out there.”

Mr. Goodtimes pushes you out into the bustling village once again, and you bring your hand up to block the sunlight that reflects off the blue crystal in front of you. Once you’re out the door Mr. Goodtimes lets you go, and you watch as Jellie runs off further into the village. You look at Mr. Goodtimes, wondering if he is worried about that at all but he is just looking out over the village with a wide smile. He looks at you.

“Well, my apprentice, since that is taken care of, why don’t I show you around?” Before you have a chance to respond you are being dragged off once again by your arm. “I was born and raised here in this village, you know. Magic runs deep and strong here, aided by the wonderful crystals you see all around you.”

He guides you up a small hill and gestures downwards at the blue crystal in the middle of the village. You can now see two farms, tabaxis like Mr. Goodtimes and Virgam are working in them as well as moving sparkles that you can only assume are some kind of fairies that zips back and forth across the fields. 

“That crystal there helps irrigate our crops. Rain is rare on this part of the island, and hauling water in from the lake isn’t always safe. So the founders of the village found a way to draw this crystal from the ground! It keeps all the dirt nice and moist. The only downside is that it can get pretty muddy sometimes, but that’s why we have stone paths everywhere, so no big deal.”

He leads you to the edge of the village, and gestures to a large green crystal that is suspended by some sort of structure in the middle of the lake. Light reflects off it, sending brilliant green rays over the already green jungle. The structure around it looks old, and you honestly don’t know how it hasn’t toppled over into the water yet.

"That crystal is really special! It can detect the intent behind magic, and deactivate it if there is any ill will.” He smiles at the shining rock. “It’s kept this village safe for many years now. I don’t want to think about what may have happened without it.”

After a few more moments of staring out over the lake, Mr. Goodtimes turns on his heels and back through the village, leaving you to follow behind. You spend an extra second looking at the crystal, a nagging feeling itching the back of your mind as you do. You manage to shake it away and follow your mentor as he walks up a small hill, between a farm bustling with activity and a small shop packed full of customers. You can faintly smell freshly baked bread, and your stomach growls. You haven’t eaten in a while, with you skipping out on dinner last night and no chance for breakfast this morning, and you’re just now remembering. You almost want to stop and grab some of the delicious smelling bread but you almost lose sight of Mr. Goodtimes while you are distracted and have to rush up the rest of the hill to catch up with him, far past the bakery.

Ahead of you stands a tall tower, it’s shape winding above you in a precarious way that makes you worried it will tip over with a slight breeze. Your mentor is standing in the doorway, beckoning you in. As soon as you do you are caught off guard by the beautiful and intricate decor, the wood carvings in the floor and on the walls absolutely breathtaking. A small round table sits in the middle of the room, with a stove off to the side and a cozy fireplace tucked in the corner. You don’t have time to dawdle, though, as Mr. Goodtimes leads you upstairs.

Lining the walls are tall bookshelves, multicolored spines creating a mesmerizing effect as you try and take in just how many there are. Nestled in between the shelves is a small window and cushion for sitting. You walk over to it, taking in the view. You can see a magnificent tree towering over the rest of the jungle a ways away. You didn’t know trees could even grow that big.

“That’s been there for centuries.” Mr. Goodtimes’ voice pipes up as he looks over your shoulder. “No one really knows how it grew, but it’s the oldest thing on the island. People think it’s the source of all the magic but I don’t think that’s true.” 

He backs up, tracing a finger along the spines of a few books before grabbing one and flipping through some pages. He stops on one with an “aha!” before his face falls in annoyance and he closes the book with a pout and puts it back. He turns back to the shelf and grabs another book. This time he flips to the first few pages before flipping further, tapping to a page victoriously.

“Here we are,” he says, “I’ll be right back.” He follows the spiral staircase back down, coming back up a few minutes later, a yellow crystal in hand that he shows off to you. “This is for you, my dear apprentice! It should help amplify your magic until you get better control over it.”

You hold the rock up to your eye, looking through the crystalline substance and at a now distorted Mr. Goodtimes. You smile at him, gesturing a thanks and grasping the crystal tight in your hand.

He opens his mouth again to speak, but is cut off by a loud boom that sends a shockwave through the tower. The sheer wave of energy that has just passed over you leaves you woozy, grasping onto one of the shelves so you don’t topple over. When you’re steady you look up at Scar who is staring out the window with wide eyes. After a few moments he looks back at you.

“That was big.” You give him an unimpressed look. “That was a massive surge of magical energy.” He grabs your arm, pulling you down the stairs, your dizziness momentarily returning at the sudden movement. “Come on, we have to go check it out!”

Something in your gut is telling you that this is a bad idea, but you figure you don’t really have a choice in the matter. As you go through the village now alive with questions of what that was, Mr. Goodtimes leads you back towards the large green crystal. Right before the outskirts of the village, a voice stops you both in your tracks.

“Hey! Scar! Scar’s apprentice!” Virgam’s voice cuts through the murmuring crowd and you both look back to see the woodworker holding a staff in her hands. She walks up to you, holding it out. “This is one of my rejects. Since Scar is pretty insistent on dragging you into danger at the first opportunity he was presented with, I figured you’ll need  _ something _ to defend yourself with.”

You give her a look to be sure, but at her certain stare alongside the knowing glint in her eyes, you grip the staff firmly in your hands. The wood is unsanded and clearly unfinished; it grates against your palms that haven’t gripped anything much rougher than a mug full of beer in the past few years. You can feel the splinters already digging into your hands, but the way the end curls to a messy ball at the top fills the pit of your stomach with excited anticipation. You nod in gratitude to Virgam with a smile. She looks past you to your impatient mentor. 

“And you, be careful. It’s not just yourself you have to worry about now, you know. Their life could very well be in your hands.”

Mr. Goodtimes stands up straighter, hand landing on your shoulder in a firm grip. “Don’t worry, Virgam. I’m sure everything will be fine. We’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

You both wave to the village, and you follow him up a spiral staircase hidden within the trunk of a tree. The smell of sap and damp wood is almost overwhelming, but luckily you’re able to breathe fresh air before long. Mr. Goodtimes leads you out onto suspended bridges above the lake and thicker parts of the jungle, connected by the sturdier looking trees. You look down at the green crystal, blinking away some light that gets reflected into your eye. You stumble forward a bit on the rickety bridge, but Mr. Goodtimes is quick to catch you before you can fall, keeping a steady hand on you until you can confidently wave him off. Silence looms over you both, a thick blanket of something you can’t quite place making your steps feel even heavier than they should be. By the way Mr. Goodtimes’ demeanor has completely changed, you have a feeling that he feels it too.

You grip your staff tighter, ignoring any pinches of pain, and look out under the bridge. You catch a glimpse of purple and black, a stark contrast to the rest of the island around you, but before you get a chance to ask, Mr. Goodtimes has gotten ahead of you and you once again need to hurry to catch up. Soon enough, you exit the bridges as you entered, though a little passageway in the trees and are met with a green pathway in the jungle.

“This way.” Mr. Goodtimes’ voice is certain. “We’ve had these tremors come from this place for a while now, but this one was way bigger than any of the others.”

He pulls away some leaves, revealing a massive trench, the bottom fading behind a fog. In front of you lies a stone bridge that leads to an absolutely monstrous tower. Shining metal towers surround it, and it tapers to a point at the top that you can’t see on the upper levels. It’s overgrown and crumbling and you wonder how much it would take for it to fully cave in, and you have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t take much. Despite this, you can’t help but be in awe.

Mr. Goodtimes walks forward and over the bridge, you hesitate but soon enough follow behind, under the gigantic archways into the halls of the tower. It’s dark, only a few remnants of what you assume are lanterns hung from broken and rusted chains from the far up ceiling. The only light is from the other three open arches and some fading torches that had been placed in what you can only assume to be a few hours ago. 

Mr. Goodtimes lifts his own staff, creating a small ball of light that floats above it and illuminates the area more. He looks at you silently, glancing at the ball with an inquiring look. You catch on, fumbling, glancing at your staff before quickly disregarding the thought that popped up in your mind. You grab one of the smoldering torches and, with a flick of your wrist, relight it. You can see your mentor’s smile clearer in the added light.

You can also see the tall centerpiece, stained glass that looks as if it swirls when you move your light stretched up into the ceiling, framed by more of the same crumbling stone as the main structure. Past the glass into what you assume to be a hollow center is pitch black, and it leaves you with an unsettling feeling and you shift your feet on the uneven wooden planks beneath you.

“Alright,” Mr. Goodtimes starts, “let’s split up. I’ll go left, you go right, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer he heads up the left stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is this chapter's decision! Thank you for participating!  
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**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Remember, the story only continues if you participate.  
> Learn more at https://adventuresinhermiton.tumblr.com/
> 
> Story by SkyWillSometimesWrite and litabattoir on tumblr  
> Written by SkyWillSometimesWrite  
> Artwork by litabattoir


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